Cold
by 554Laura
Summary: Someone is trying to ask Brennan and Booth for help, but why? This is short, multi-chapter Halloween themed story is set at the beginning of season 5, after Harbingers in a Fountain. PLEASE NOTE: THIS STORY IS AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Please remember that this story is AU. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it._

* * *

 _So cold...it is so damn cold...the kind of cold where you think you'll never be warm again. The kind of cold that wears you out...it pulls you down...the kind of cold that makes you feel like you're sinking deeper and deeper...so damn cold…_

Oooooooooo

Temperance Brennan briskly walked down the steps to the Jeffersonian's basement and pushed open the double doors that led to the bone storage room. Casting a backwards glance at her intern, she frowned as he tried to keep up with her. "Come along, Mr. Bray. We have work to do."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." Following his mentor into the storeroom, the young man grimaced as he looked up at the towering shelves that held the many drawer-like containers of skeletal remains. For some reason he didn't completely understand, Limbo always gave him the creeps, even though he'd worked with several sets of human remains upstairs in the lab during his internship. _Maybe it's because we don't know who these people are, or what happened to them...isn't this what everyone really fears? Dying alone, and no one knows what happened to you…forgotten...lost to the world forever._ He struggled to quell his irrational discomfort as he pulled on his exam gloves. _Come on...no big deal, right? Nothing to be afraid of down here..._

All business, Brennan bustled around the stainless steel examination table in the middle of the room. Taking one of the tubs from lower part of the shelving, she placed it on the end of the table and began to unpack its contents. "I'll need you to watch carefully as I take these measurements for our new project, Mr. Bray. Because you're so detail oriented, it would help me a great deal if you could learn to take these measurements accurately and then enter them in the computer files. Here...I'll show you what I have in mind." She noted the number on the outside of the tub. "05121997UFA. You scan this number into this tablet, and it brings up the file. You can then open the file and enter the appropriate measurements and pictures of the remains. Angela will then be able to use the information to create an approximate 3D rendering of the person's appearance when they were alive. That image may then be used to assist us in finding out the person's identity."

They worked for several minutes together, concentrating on what they were doing, when Brennan stopped suddenly. "Why is that tub pulled away from the shelving?" She pointed over Wendell's shoulder to one of the upper shelves where a container was jutting out of its shelf. "We need to put that back in its proper position before it falls out."

"I'll take care of it, Dr. Brennan." Pulling over a medium sized step stool, Wendell climbed up and pushed the container back into its correct slot. "There we go. I don't know how it came loose…"

"It doesn't really matter." She picked up the skull and handed it to her intern. "So now that we've taken all of the measurements, we need to note any obvious anomalies, and then it'll be time for the photographs. Angela has listed what types of photographs she wants of the skull so she can make a more accurate facial reconstruction…close ups and the different angles..."

Brennan was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a plastic tub sliding off of its shelf. Clearly irritated, she pointed up at the same container. "I thought you put that box back where it belonged, Mr. Bray."

"I did, Dr. Brennan, and I pushed it in firmly, making sure it was as far into the slot as it could go." Pulling the step stool over again, Wendell climbed up and pushed the box back into its cubby hole. "I don't understand why this one slid out of its space. It fits perfectly…it's not loose at all."

"Perhaps we are experiencing earthquake tremors. Washington is in a seismically active zone, and the rolling motion of the surface waves could jar that container loose." Shrugging, Brennan bent over the skeleton on the table, taking more pictures of the skull. "That must be it."

"I didn't notice any unusual movements in the building, Dr. Brennan…", Wendell said cautiously, not wanting to annoy her, "...but even if it was a tremor, wouldn't more of the boxes be jarred loose? It was just that one…" Wendell paused as they heard the sound of a plastic tub sliding on its shelf. "...and that's the same one, isn't it?"

Brennan nodded as she looked up at the container, chewing her lip slightly as she studied the shelving unit. Many years of working in bone storage had inured her against the horror of the anonymous death surrounding them, but she was beginning to feel slightly nervous. _Nonsense!_ She scolded herself severely as she moved the bones she'd been examining from the table back to their container. _There must be a logical, rational explanation for that occurrence. Containers simply cannot move by themselves. Objects at rest stay at rest unless acted on by an outside force._ "It may be that the runners on the shelf are damaged. I'll put in a request for maintenance to inspect that set of shelves. It may be that the section holding that container is worn out or faulty."

"Yeah...that's a good idea." Looking over his shoulder, Wendell shuddered slightly. The box had been pulled away from the shelf, protruding about halfway out from its slot. _There's no way that drawer slid out by itself._ Not wanting to appear superstitious in front of his mentor, he nodded. "I'll go push that box back where it belongs, and I'll check the runners." Climbing up on the step stool, he put the box back into its proper position, noticing that it took some effort to slide it back into place. He called down to Brennan. "This drawer has a lot of bones in it, Dr. B. It's kind of heavy to be sliding out by itself on these runners. I'm not sure what's causing it to move…"

"I suppose it's not anything we need to be concerned about at the moment. We should concentrate on the task at hand." After closing the computer file, Brennan returned the tub she'd been working on to its proper location on a lower shelf. "I'd like to have you practice those skeletal measurements under my direct supervision now before I allow you to work on this project by yourself. Here's another container…" She set a box on the table and began arranging the bones in their anatomical position. "I have confidence in you, Mr. Bray. You should be able to become proficient at this task quite easily."

Not thrilled at the thought of working in bone storage by himself, Wendell nodded slowly as he heard the box slide out of its slot again. "Yeah...great. Thanks. I'm glad you trust me like that, Dr. B." Carefully studying the bones on the table, he sighed. _Just what I wanted to do, right? Work in a creepy underground storeroom full of old bones where inanimate objects move by themselves._

They worked on the remains from several more containers, each of them pretending not to notice that the offending drawer had moved out away from its shelf again. It was late in the afternoon when they finished the measurements on the last set of remains that Brennan had selected.

"Very good, Mr. Bray. You've been able to learn the skills I wanted to teach you in a very short period of time, as I knew you would. When you're not working on a case for the FBI, you may work down here in bone storage. I'm sure you'll be able to use the income provided by the extra hours of work, correct?" Brennan pulled off her gloves, throwing them away before she untied her lab apron. "This sort of work is very important in our providing names and faces to these unknown individuals. When you do this sort of menial labor, it allows me additional time to conduct the more difficult work involved in identification."

"Um...yeah. Thanks, Dr. B. I appreciate you training me to do something so I can make some extra money." He took off his gloves and tossed them in the trash can. "I'm attending a seminar on fracture remodeling all day tomorrow, but I can begin working down here on Wednesday if you want." He cringed as he realized what he'd just said. _Shit...did I really just volunteer to work on this project right away? I could use the money, but I'm not really sure I want to be down here by myself with all of these boxes of remains…_ "I'm gonna fix that drawer, okay?" Climbing the stool one more time, Wendell pushed the drawer back into its slot.

"That will be satisfactory." She opened the door before flicking off the light switch. "Have a good evening, Wendell."

"Thanks. You, too."

Both of them hesitated as they heard the drawer slide out of its slot.

Brennan smiled faintly at her companion. "I'll call maintenance about that drawer before I leave this afternoon."

"Good."

They quickly walked up the stairs, anxious to leave the odd happenings of bone storage behind them.

Oooooooooo

"Hey, Bones…" Booth walked into Brennan's office, but finding it empty, he looked around the lab, wondering where she was. Checking his watch, he was grumbled to himself. He was right on time for their meeting about the Haggerty case, but she was nowhere to be found. Supposing that she'd lost track of time while she was working on a set of remains, he decided to wait in her office for a few minutes. He plopped down on the couch and took out his phone to check his messages, but there were none, so he tried to busy himself by checking some baseball scores. _Stupid Phillies. They need a couple of new pitchers..._ After waiting for his partner for a quarter of an hour, he found himself growing drowsy, and after removing his jacket and making himself comfortable as he stretched out on the sofa, he was soon snoring softly.

 _Where am I? It was snowing heavily as he walked along a muddy, narrow path. It was pitch black, and there was very little noise...almost no sound. Just the sound of boots crunching the heavy, wet snow and some muffled sounds in the distance...was that thunder? He was cold...so horribly cold. Pulling his heavy jacket closer, he shivered, wishing he could get out his wet clothes...out of the snowy weather, out of the cold...but there was nowhere to go...nowhere to go except forward. Where am I going? I can't see...It's black, and it's cold...so damn cold…can't feel my feet...so tired...my bones...want my bones..._

"Booth? Booth, wake up." Angela stood over him, smiling as she gently tried to rouse him. "Hey, Studly...you've been dreaming…"

"Umf? What?" He shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake off his sleepiness. "Oh, hey, Angela…what's going on?" He sat up and looked around the room, surprised to find himself warm and dry in his partner's office. _What a crazy dream._ He tried to shake off his discomfort and uneasiness, smiling faintly at the artist. "I guess I dozed off."

"Yeah, you were sound asleep. I practically had to shake you to wake you up. Are you okay? You look like you don't feel good." Tilting her head to one side, she studied him closely as he shivered slightly. "You're really pale…"

"Nah, I'm fine. I just had a bad dream, that's all." Yawning and stretching, Booth looked around the office as if to get his bearings. "Um...where's Bones? It's after three. She should be here by now...we had an appointment this afternoon."

Angela shrugged as she sat down opposite of him. "She and Wendell are down in bone storage, working on a new method of cataloging the remains of the unidentified bodies in Limbo. They're going to enter measurements into some computer files so I can use them to make facial reconstructions that we can provide to law enforcement agencies all over the country via email. It might help us identify more missing people whose bones are down in Limbo."

"Yeah, that's great, I guess, but me and her had an appointment to discuss the Haggerty case. Caroline's worried about having enough solid evidence for the conviction, and she's been on my back, wanting me to make sure Bones has everything just right before we go to trial. I tried to tell her that it wasn't necessary...we got this, just like always, but you know how stubborn Caroline can be." Grumbling to himself, he slowly got up from the couch, smoothing his shirt and tie as he picked up his suit jacket. "Sorry if I bothered you with my nightmare, Angela. No hard feelings, okay? I'm just gonna go down to bone storage and see what Bones is up to." Still unsettled and shuddering slightly, he waved to her as he left Brennan's office.

Walking back to her own office, Angela puzzled over what had happened. It seemed like Booth had been calling out for Bones in his sleep. He'd sounded so sad...it was almost like she'd been listening to someone else call out. He said he'd had a bad dream, but something didn't quite seem right. He'd seemed stunned...scared...unhappy, and he'd been shivering in the middle of the summer...it must've been a terrible dream.

Angela sat down at her desk and opened one of the newly updated files from Limbo. As she entered the measurements into her reconstruction program, she tried to shake off the feeling that something strange was about to happen. Brushing off her nervousness, she was concentrating on making some adjustments to the rendering on her monitor when she heard a small noise in her doorway.

"Good afternoon, Angela…" A petite blonde woman entered the room and stood in front of her desk.

Angela smiled up at her visitor. "Hello, Avalon…"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: thanks for the kind reviews. There will be an air of creepiness in this story, but nothing too frightening. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Laura

* * *

 _Never been so cold...or so miserable...in my whole damn life. Can't feel my feet...can't feel anything. It's exhausting...it drags you down. Why do people think Hell is hot?_

 _The cold is so much worse…._

Oooooooooo

"Avalon, why are you here? I thought my reading was next week." Angela was surprised as her visitor sat down opposite of her. "I mean, I'm glad to see you, but…"

"I'm not here to see you today, Angela." Smoothing her dark purple dress, Avalon leveled a steady gaze at her friend. "Someone here needs me, and I intend to help him."

"Oh, really? That's kind of odd, isn't it?" Angela cringed as she sat back in her chair. "Who is it?"

"I don't know yet. He hasn't told me his name." Avalon sighed softly as she removed her deck of Tarot cards from her purse. "He's lost, and he wants to be found...quickly. He has to get a message to someone very soon."

Frustrated with the psychic's riddles, Angela tried to pin down some details. "So is he someone who just arrived? I think we know who all of those people are. We don't have anyone in the lab right now who's unidentified."

"I don't think he's out there in your lab. He showed me a big room with lots of boxes stacked on shelves. That's where he is." Giggling softly, Avalon leaned across Angela's desk as if to share a secret. "He tried to get Temperance's attention when she was down there in the room today, but, of course, she refused to cooperate." Making air quotes, the psychic rolled her eyes. "There must be a logical explanation for a drawer of bones moving by itself, you know…" She laid one of the brightly colored cards on Angela's desk. "We need to figure things out…maybe you can help me."

"But how?" Angela sat back with her arms crossed over her chest, studying the card before her. "What do the cards say?"

Avalon tapped the upside down picture with her index finger. "This is the Knight of Swords. Our mysterious friend was a young man...probably a soldier. He probably rushed headlong into some sort of dangerous action or a battle without being prepared for what lay ahead."

"Well, that makes sense." Angela nodded as she thought about what Brennan had been working on that day. "We have a lot of remains of unknown soldiers from various wars stored in Limbo...I mean bone storage...several sets from World War I, as a matter of fact."

"I think our friend's death was more recent than World War I. His uniform looks more modern to me." Avalon dealt a set of cards and laid them out on the desk. "These two cards both say the same thing...the reversed Death and 6 of Swords means he's trying to move on, but he can't for some reason. Something is bothering him too much, and he doesn't want to leave things undone. This card...the World...it's reversed, too. It means a lack of closure."

"And that's why he's still here, right?", Angela asked. Sighing, she glanced at Avalon. "So do we need to help him move on?"

"Perhaps. This 5 of Cups and the 3 of Swords together indicate bereavement and painful separation...and regrets. The Tower, the Ace of Swords, and the Moon indicate fear, anxiety, confusion...disaster…". Avalon muttered to herself as she turned over some more cards. "The reversed Hermit indicates isolation and loneliness. The reversed Sun indicates a lack of success. Oh, no…", Avalon gasped as she turned over the next card. "A reversed Wheel of Fortune...negative external forces, and bad luck…whatever happened to him was something beyond his control."

"What does that mean for our friend?" Angela leaned over to look at the cards as the psychic studied them. "It sounds awful. Do you think he was killed in action?"

"I'm not sure. He's very confused about what happened to cause his death, but he knows it wasn't natural causes." Turning over the last card, Avalon puffed out a sigh. "The High Priestess indicates mystery and the subconscious mind. Our friend is trying to contact someone through a pathway to their subconscious...probably Agent Booth."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Angela chuckled quietly at that crazy idea. "Why would a spirit contact Booth, of all people? I mean, he's all business, right? He's not into this sort of thing."

"Agent Booth was a soldier at one time, so our lost friend most likely feels a sort of kinship with him." Avalon shuffled her remaining cards, laying out a few more. "Besides, contrary to what you may believe, Booth is very sensitive to these things. Anyone can see that...his bright pink aura just shouts sensitivity to the spiritual aspects of life."

"Booth's aura is _pink?"_ , Angela squealed, laughing out loud at the thought. "I never knew such a strong, virile man like Booth could have a pink aura."

"The color of a person's aura has nothing to do with their gender or how strong they are. A pink aura means that a person is strong willed and disciplined. They want to make a difference in the world, and they are open to the spiritual aspects of life." Irritated by Angela's laughter, Avalon picked up her cards and put them back in her bag. "Has Agent Booth seemed different lately?"

"Well…" Biting back her laughter over Booth's pink aura, Angela paused, trying to decide if she should give away something she thought might be a secret. "You know, he's been really moody lately…he's been really kind of sad since he awoke from his coma dream. It's like he's lost something very dear to him."

Avalon nodded as she listened. "That's because he's in love with Dr. Brennan, and he doesn't know what to do about it yet. You don't have to be a psychic to know that. I mean something different within the last few days."

"When I saw him about an hour ago, he was in Brennan's office, taking a nap, and he was talking in his sleep, obviously upset. When I woke him up, he said he'd had a bad dream."

Angela tilted her head to one side. "That was from the spirit, wasn't it? It was trying to communicate with Booth, right?"

"Yes." Avalon sighed as she stood up to leave. "It's begun. I'll visit Booth tomorrow. I imagine he's going to have a hard time sleeping tonight. He'll need to talk to someone in the morning."

Oooooooooo

Brennan was quite certain that Booth was the most frustrating man in the world. He'd actually scolded her for doing what she'd been hired to do for the Jeffersonian. He'd been frustrated because there wouldn't be any new information on the Haggerty case until the DNA samples came back. However, according to Booth, she should somehow be able to hurry things along. "Hurrying things along just causes mistakes.", she said to herself as she fixed her dinner. "And then we'd lose the case, and he'd still be annoyed. So he can just be annoyed with me for doing things the correct way."

Still irritated about the day's events, she sat at her kitchen counter, absentmindedly picking at her roasted vegetable wrap as she did research on the internet. The cabinets in bone storage had been built to exacting specifications in order to assure that incidents like the one that occurred today would be avoided. The drawers were designed to glide slowly within slotted runners, with a small flange on the end so they couldn't accidently fall out if the shelves were jostled. They could be pulled out part way, or lifted completely from the runners for easy removal, but they shouldn't slide by themselves.

She nodded as she read the specifications. She had requested that those exact shelves be installed during the storage room remodel that took place shortly after Dr. Goodman had hired her. Before she began working there, crates and boxes with remains were simply stacked randomly, one on top of another, with no practical method of cataloguing them available. Now the forensic anthropologists working at the museum could go from box to box easily, starting with the remains that had been at the Jeffersonian the longest and working towards the remains that had arrived more recently.

Brennan accessed the Jeffersonian's building files and pulled up the schematic of bone storage. As remains were identified, the spaces were marked as complete on the diagram. In her tenure there, Brennan had already identified over 500 individuals, but there were still hundreds of cases to clear.

She had worked in a pattern...the oldest sets of remains were on the bottom when she began her Jeffersonian career, and in her well ordered mind, it seemed logical to begin with those individuals. She traced her finger across her computer's monitor. Apparently the drawer that refused to stay in its place had arrived approximately thirty years ago as part of an exchange of unknown casualties from the Korean War. Based on the sketchy information available, it was impossible to tell how long the remains had been held in enemy hands before they'd been turned over to the Department of Defense. It was unusual for a casualty from the Korean Conflict to remain unidentified after all these years, but it seemed the soldier's dog tags had been lost somehow after his death. Eventually the team at the Jeffersonian would be able to match the remains with someone from the missing in action list, but based on the rate at which the work was being completed, that might not occur for several more years. Brennan had hoped that training Wendell and some of the other interns to take measurements on the bones in storage would speed up the process.

That still didn't provide a suitable explanation for why the drawer kept sliding out of its shelf. The shelving had been designed for use in earthquake prone areas such as DC, and the movement of the drawer shouldn't have happened under normal circumstances. After puzzling over the issue for a bit, Brennan finally shook her head. Tomorrow she'd go down to bone storage and check the box herself.

 _Wendell probably just made a mistake when he pushed the box back in. I'm sure that must be what happened. I'll fix it tomorrow. Perhaps there's a way to seal it._

Still not entirely confident in her answer, she opened her manuscript file to access her latest novel, knowing it did no good to worry about the strange happenings in bone storage until the next morning. _I'll concentrate on something else for awhile_ _..._

Oooooooooo

Sitting on the sofa in his living room that evening, a restless and irritable Booth ate a bite from his grilled cheese sandwich as he turned on the television. After searching through the channels, he found a baseball game and settled back to watch, hoping the distraction would ease his mind.

He took a sip of his beer and tried to relax, but for some reason he found it hard to concentrate on the game. His mind kept wandering back to earlier in the day. After his unexpected nap in Bones' office, he'd gone down to Limbo to find her. As he'd suspected, she'd been so wrapped up in her work down there that she'd forgotten about their appointment.

He'd been impatient with her, scolding her about her forgetfulness. The Haggerty case was going to be difficult to prosecute, and Caroline had been on his ass to push Bones so she'd wrap things up quickly. He should've known how his partner would react to his irritation. It wasn't pretty, and they'd had a very loud argument about it.

 _If we rush things just to make Caroline happy, we might make a mistake, Booth, and that could cost her a conviction. You should know that…I'm not going to hurry just because you don't feel like waiting any longer. I have an exacting examination process that I've used successfully for many years. I see no reason to change that just because you demand that I speed things up._ He could still see her angry glare...the way her eyes were blazing as she poked his chest with her finger when she tried to make her point.

He did know that, but he'd demanded that she hurry things along anyway, accusing her of wasting time with all those old bones in Limbo. She'd responded by angrily storming off, leaving him to stand alone at the bottom of the stairs that led to bone storage.

But that wasn't the only problem. The bad dream he'd had this afternoon still troubled him. He couldn't shake the despair he felt. He knew it was just a dream, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that it was something more, like someone was trying to tell him something.

He glanced at the television again, realizing he didn't even know the score of the game. Yawning as he craned his neck from side to side, he decided to call it a night. That way he could get up early in the morning to go apologize to his partner.

It was a warm night, so he stripped down to his boxers and cranked up the window air conditioner before stretching out on his bed and drifting off to sleep.

/*/*/*/*/*/

 _There was loud, bone rattling BOOM and a blinding flash of light, and he'd been thrown backwards, as if by an explosion. He lay stunned in a snow bank until he finally came to his senses. He looked around, dazed and in shock. Panicking, he was unsteady as he got to his feet. He had to get out of there...he needed to get away...now!_

 _It was snowing heavily as he tried to walk quickly along a muddy, narrow path. It was pitch black, and there was very little noise...just the sound of his boots crunching the heavy, wet snow and some muffled sounds in the distance...was that thunder?_

 _No, that was artillery. He could see the flashes of the big guns against the night sky, and he felt the thud reverberating through his body as they were being fired. Questions kept running through his mind. 'How did I get separated from my outfit? Where's the rest of my patrol? Where the hell am I?'_

 _'_ _Gotta keep walking...I can't stop. I gotta make it back to camp or I'm a dead man.' Shifting his pack on his shoulders and adjusting his helmet, he looked down at his rifle. 'Helluva lotta good this damn gun is gonna do me now...Jesus, I'm so lost and it's so dark...I am so screwed...where are Eddie and Frankie? Did they just leave me to die in the snow?' He glanced at his uniform shirt and pants, which were covered with frozen blood and bits of flesh. 'Am I bleeding? I'm so cold…'_

 _He was so cold...so horribly cold. The cold seeped insistently through his clothes...through his boots and woolen socks...like it was eating through his body. He was completely numb, chilled to the bone. Pulling his heavy jacket closer, he shivered, wishing he could get out his wet clothes...out of the snowy weather, but there was nowhere to go…nowhere but forward. 'Where am I going? I can't see...It's so dark, and it's so cold...so damn cold…can't feel my fingers...can't feel my feet...so tired...I need to sleep…but I gotta keep going...wanna go home to my Linda...' He tried to cheer himself up by thinking about his young wife. 'We're gonna be so happy together when I get home...we'll buy a little house...have a couple of kids…'_

 _He trudged along in the brutal, raw cold, walking as far as he could before he fell to his knees in exhaustion. Struggling to get up on his feet again, he shrugged off his pack and his helmet and started walking again, only to realize that he'd lost all sense of direction as he slogged aimlessly through the knee deep snow in the dark. He was panting and groaning from his efforts as he tried to plow a path through the drifts. The perspiration formed from his exertion was freezing to his skin in the frigid air. 'So tired…so cold… just wanna sleep...dream about Linda...miss my Linda...just gonna sleep a minute…can't feel my feet...so much blood...everywhere...so damn cold...' He found some large rocks sticking up out of the snowy ground. Shivering violently, he sat down to rest. 'Maybe I'll just sit here for a minute and catch my breath...so goddamn cold…I'll feel better after a nap...I hope I can get some rest...it's so fucking cold...Linda...Linda...want my Linda...'_

 _"_ _I WANT MY BONES!"_

Booth woke with a start at the sound of a young man's voice in his ear, shivering from cold as he looked around his darkened bedroom. "It was just a dream…", he muttered to himself. "Just a dream…"

Unfortunately for his peace of mind, he knew better. Someone was trying desperately to tell him something, and he had to find out what it was...the sooner, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: thank you for the reviews. I was a little nervous about posting this story since it was something kind of different from normal._

 _I have made an effort to be historically accurate in my depiction of the Battle of the Yalu River which occurred during the Korean War. I apologize for any mistakes that are present in this chapter._

 _Please remember that this story is AU. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it._

* * *

 _Freezing...biting...bitter...frigid...how many goddamn ways can a guy say he's cold? After a while it doesn't matter. It's just too cold. It's too fucking cold to breathe...the moisture in your lungs turns to ice...it burns so bad. The cold feels like it's cutting into your skin...It's like it piercing your brain. Jesus...why couldn't I be in a war somewhere warm? So fucking cold…_

 _...like I'll never be warm again..._

Oooooooooo

It was early the next morning when Booth arrived at the lab. He checked Brennan's office to see if she was there, but, finding it vacant, he walked down the steps to bone storage.

He pushed open the double doors that led into the large room. Walking through the corridors created by the shelving units, he called out for his partner. "Bones? You down here?"

Peering around a set of shelves, she responded. "Booth? Why are you here so early?"

Following the sound of her voice, he finally found her standing on a step stool adjusting one of the plastic drawers in the shelving unit. "Hey, Bones. Whatcha doin'?"

"Oh…" She turned away from him so she could use both hands to push the drawer into its slot. "...something's wrong with this container, so I wanted to see if I could fix it."

"What do you mean...something's wrong with it? I mean, it just slides in there, right? Is it broken? Do you need some help?"

"I don't think so." She shrugged as she applied some duct tape to the four corners of the slot in the shelf, affixing it so the drawer would stay put. "It should slide in there and stay in there, but it doesn't. For some reason it keeps sliding out." Satisfied with her repair job, she climbed down from the stool. "You still haven't told me why you're here so early. Do we have a new case?"

"Um...no." He paused, entranced as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes, and he almost forgot the errand that had brought him there. "I...I just came by to apologize for how I acted yesterday. I mean, I know I was being a jerk, trying to push you into ignoring the right way to do things when it comes to dealing with evidence, but Caroline's been on my ass, you know, wanting things done in a hurry, even though we have such a good record on closing cases…"

"It's okay, Booth. I was quite short tempered when I talked to you yesterday afternoon, and I'm afraid I overreacted to your request that I focus on the Haggerty case." Brennan smiled shyly at her partner. "I asked Cam if she could put in a request to expedite the DNA analysis."

"Hey...that's great. Thanks, Bones." He offered up a Boothy grin. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Actually, I ate before I came to work, but, as it turns out, I'm free for lunch...if you have time…"

"Yeah...I'd like that." There was another awkward pause as Booth tried to find the right words to explain how he was feeling at the moment. _Yeah, great...tell a woman you love her while you're surrounded by a pile of old bones. Way to be, Romeo._ "Listen, I want to tell you something…"

He was interrupted by shrill laughter coming from the double doors. "I told Angela we'd find you down here. Good morning, Seeley. Good morning, Temperance."

Brennan was completely outraged when she saw the visitor. "Angela, I can't believe you allowed Ms. Harmonia to accompany you down here to bone storage. This section of the Jeffersonian is off limits to everyone except for employees."

Before Angela could say anything, Avalon waved off Brennan's strenuous objections. "Oh, it's no big deal, really. They don't mind if I'm down here."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Brennan shook her head. "I disagree. I feel sure that Dr. Saroyan would not approve of you being in this area."

"I wasn't talking about Dr. Saroyan." Avalon gestured grandly toward the shelves lining the room. "I'm talking about the spirits who go with these bones." She chuckled at Brennan's angry scowl. "You know, Temperance, Angela says you can see a face on every skull. Well, I can see a spirit for every box of bones in this room. They're crowded in here...standing in the corners and sitting on the floor." The petite woman pulled a stool over and sat down. "They know what you're doing for them when you work down here, and they appreciate it. Most of them are okay with waiting their turn to be given back their name. They know you're working as fast as you can."

"That's nonsense, Ms. Harmonia. There's no such thing as a spirit or a soul. These remains are of people who have died and are unidentified. That's all there is to it." Brennan glared at the psychic as she turned away from the visitors. "I don't have time for this sort of foolishness. I have work to do, so if you'll excuse me…"

"The souls are here watching you whether you believe in them or not. They all know you're very busy, and most of them aren't in a hurry, except for that one." Avalon pointed to a drawer that had moved out of its slot. The tape that had been holding it in place was still visible, hanging from the corners of the box where it had been torn away from the shelf. "He's in a hurry for some reason." Smiling gently, she turned to Booth. "He's been trying to explain things to you, hasn't he? He needs things done quickly, so I don't imagine he's been very patient."

"What? Um, no…of course not. I don't know what you're talking about." Shocked by the psychic's statement, Booth felt himself begin to blush as all eyes were turned on him. "I don't believe in that shit…"

Arching an eyebrow at him, Avalon laughed softly. "Yes, you do. You just don't want Temperance to know that you do, right? It comes from your mother, doesn't it? And maybe your paternal grandmother as well. They were both sensitive to spirits…to the presence of the dead."

"Aw, c'mon, Avalon. I don't want to talk about that right now...that's family stuff, alright?" Booth shook his head as he nervously studied his nails. "I mean, you know, it's not my fault that my mom used to claim that her Irish ancestors had a banshee that looked like an old lady, or that my Nana said there was a young woman's ghost living in her rowhouse with her."

"We can't help who our relatives are, Seeley, or what talents we've inherited from them. It would seem you've been gifted with the same sort of sensitivity to the spirits of the dead as your ancestors." Avalon sighed softly. "This young man needs some help, and he's reaching out to you, although you may not know it." She tilted her head to one side, studying him carefully. "Tell me about your dreams."

"Yeah, I had some bad dreams last night...all variations on the same thing, but that's no surprise. I have bad dreams all the time from when I was in the service." Thoroughly surprised by her request, Booth was caught off guard. "How did you know about that, anyway?"

"It's not important." Avalon looked at Booth expectantly. "Now tell me...what happened in the dreams you had last night?"

Hesitating, Booth avoided eye contact with Avalon, who was watching him intently. Staring into a corner of the room, he shivered slightly as he remembered what had happened. "Well, in the dreams, it's like I'm seeing things through someone else's eyes, okay? It's really, really cold...I mean, freeze your balls off cold, if you'll excuse the expression. Then there's this loud sound and a bright flash of light, and I'm thrown backwards into a snowbank. I'm dazed...stunned, I guess, and I don't know what happened, but when I come to my senses, my uniform is covered with frozen blood. I can't find my friends Eddie and Frankie, but I know I need to get the hell out of there, so I start walking away as fast as I can, but it's so cold, and I'm so tired as I try to walk through the snow...and I find these rocks, so I sit down, and I fall asleep…thinking about a woman named Linda, and then some man tells me he wants his bones." Booth stopped suddenly and turned to Brennan as he pointed to the shelving units. "What kind of remains are in that box that keeps moving? What era are they from?"

Rolling her eyes, she grimaced slightly. "They belong to an unidentified casualty from the Korean Conflict, but really, I don't think that's relevant…"

"Well, I think maybe I know what happened to the guy, but it's gonna sound crazy, okay? I mean, it's just a feeling I have, but still...it makes sense to me. Anyway, this morning I was thinking about something my grandfather told me about his time in the service. Pops was in the Army during the Korean War, remember?" Seeing Brennan nod, Booth rushed to explain his idea. "He was stationed in Incheon, but he knew a guy from his Basic Training unit that was in the battle at the Yalu River. Have you ever heard of it?"

"No, but…" Brennan was about to protest that it was also irrelevant, but Booth held up his hand to stop her.

"Just listen, okay? It was November, 1950, and the Americans were gonna set up camp by the Yalu River, ready to engage the Chinese if they crossed the Korean border. The conditions there were really rough...winter came early that year, and it was the coldest winter they'd had in over a hundred years. The winds came howling down from Siberia and the air temperature dropped to 32 below zero almost overnight. Our forces were unprepared for the conditions…they didn't have enough cold weather gear to go around. It was kind of like the Korean War version of Valley Forge."

Avalon turned to Angela, smiling sadly as she nodded. "See? The cards were right. Our young soldier was unprepared for what he was going to face in the battle. It seems he must've contacted Seeley because of his grandfather's connection to the Korean War."

Wanting to ignore Avalon's statement, Booth quickly continued. "I mean, Pops said it was so cold, the GIs had to pee on their guns to warm the mechanisms up enough to get them to work right. It was unbelievably cold…" Booth shivered once more as he recalled his dreams. "Guys used to burn anything they could find to warm up...they even poured gasoline on the bare ground and lit it on fire just to stay warm, even though it was totally against regs." Pausing slightly, he sighed sadly. "The North Koreans would rig up booby traps...they left bundles of straw with explosives inside. When the GIs tried to burn them for to get warm...kaboom."

"That's terrible." Angela was horrified. "How could human beings do that to each other?"

"It was war, Angela, but you're right. It's terrible." Booth scratched the back of his neck as he considered what had happened next in his dream. "Anyway, I'm not sure why I feel this way, but I think maybe there was an explosion of some sort, either from a booby trap or maybe a landmine, and this guy's buddies might've been killed, and he was injured...like maybe he had a bad concussion or something. I think maybe he was partially blinded by the flash, too, because it's so dark in my dream. Anyway, it seems like he became disoriented because of the blast, and he wandered around in the cold and the snow for a period of time until he froze to death. Maybe his body was covered with snow and they couldn't find him afterwards...at least not until the snow all melted. Maybe he's upset about being left behind."

Finally, Brennan couldn't contain her temper any longer. "That is a huge leap of logic, Booth! There is no way we can prove that man froze to death by looking at his bones, and we have no reason to believe that your dreams are, in fact, related to anything pertaining to him. That's a ridiculous assumption to make! We deal in facts in this lab, not some sort of crazed ramblings from a supposed psychic or the gut instincts of an overly sensitive FBI agent."

"It's not gut instinct, Bones!", Booth growled. "I'm postulating a scenario. That's what us cops do, right? We take the information we have available, and then we use it to try to figure out what happened!"

"But the scenario has to make sense, Booth, and we need to have definitive proof and reliable information, instead of basing the story on what amounts to simply a bad feeling left over from a nightmare. You know that. You're just getting caught up in a good story, and you don't even care about the actual truth, do you?"

Sensing how upset Booth was with Brennan's dismissive tirade, Angela interrupted her friend's angry retort. "I know you're aggravated with us, Sweetie, but what would it hurt to take a closer look at those bones? I mean, I know you're used to going in order as you work through the boxes of remains in bone storage, but maybe, just this once, you could do something a little bit random, alright? If nothing else, it'll give you a chance to look over that container more closely to see why it won't stay in it's slot."

"Yeah, come on, Bones…", Booth whined, throwing in a bit of a pout and some sad puppy eyes. "It won't take all that long, right? And maybe if you go ahead and identify the remains, Avalon will leave you alone, okay? And maybe...just maybe...I'll be able to get a good night's sleep tonight." He quirked an eyebrow at her and smiled. "C'mon...please? For me?"

Thoroughly exasperated with the situation, and with her inability to stand firm against the onslaught of Booth's charm, Brennan puffed out an angry sigh. "Fine. I'll get the box down, and I'll look at the remains. Will that make everyone happy? Perhaps after that task is accomplished, we can move on to doing something scientific instead of wasting time chasing imaginary spirits and make believe ghosts."

Glancing up at the container, Avalon smiled. "Yes...I believe it will make all of us happy." Seeing a filmy shadow move across the room in her peripheral vision, she murmured to herself quietly. "Both the living and the dead…"

Brennan climbed up on the step stool again and lifted the box off the shelf before handing it to Booth, who carried it over to the exam table.

"Man, this thing is heavy." He set it on the table and looked inside as he removed the tape from the box's corners. "I can't imagine how this container could move by itself."

Removing the bones one by one, Brennan laid them out in their appropriate position on the exam table as she recorded her findings on her tablet. "It would seem that this skeleton is mostly intact and that the bones are robust. Based on the amount of wear evident on his teeth and the clavicular epiphyseal fusion, I would estimate this soldier's age to be late teens or early twenties. Very little evidence of trauma to the long bones of the limbs…some evidence of extremely small penetrating wounds on the upper torso. Some of the phalanges from the hands and feet are missing, but, given the age of the remains, that's to be expected. The shape of the pelvis confirms this person's gender as male." She examined the individual vertebrae closely. "The bones of the spine appear to be intact, as are the ribs. It appears that this man had very few injuries to his body, but there does seem to be some pitting on the sternum, perhaps from shrapnel. We'll need to have Dr. Hodgins swab and confirm." Picking up the skull, she studied the rims around the orbitals. "There may indeed be some microfracturing around the orbitals, the frontal bone, and the maxilla, but I'll need to examine the skull more closely under magnification."

"Cause of death?" Booth tried to control his smirk. "It doesn't look like he had many injuries. Didn't you say that hypothermia wouldn't show up on the bones? Maybe he lost some of those phalanges because of frostbite."

Glaring at Booth, Brennan crossed her arms over her chest. "We just discussed this yesterday. It does no good to rush me when I'm collecting evidence." Picking up the sternum, she ran her fingers over its surface. "I'll need some time in order to make a more detailed examination."

"Well, then…", Angela commented as she nodded to her companion, "...we'll leave you to it. Come on, Avalon…"

Booth stood by the examination table, watching Brennan as she carefully ran her fingers over the skull. "I think I'm gonna take off, too, Bones…you're busy here..."

"Please return in exactly three hours." Glancing up at her partner, she chuckled quietly at his questioning expression. "You said you'd go to lunch with me today."

"Yeah...okay." Checking his watch, he smiled. "I'll be back around noon. Talk to you later."

As he left bone storage, Booth saw Angela and Avalon waiting for him at the top of the stairs. "That actually went better than I thought it would, Booth.", Angela giggled. "You can be very persuasive."

"I'm really shocked." He let out a low whistle in surprise. "I can't believe Bones decided to check out the remains in that box today. It's kind of strange for her to do that…"

Angela laughed as she nudged Avalon with her elbow. "I guess she responded to your requests because you're such a sensitive man, Booth...you know, with your bright pink aura and all…"

"Pink aura? What the hell are you talking about, Angela? I don't have a pink aura...whatever an aura is. I'm a man, so my aura is gonna be blue...hey, come back here." Standing with his hands on his hips as he watched the two women, who were laughing while they walked away from him, he cursed under his breath as he began to follow them up the steps. "No fucking way...bright pink? And what the hell is an aura thingy, anyway?"

*/*/*/*/*/

Relieved at finally being allowed to work in peace, Brennan set the skull, clavicles, upper ribs, and sternum aside before returning the rest of the soldier's remains to their container. Humming softly to herself, she took photographs of the bones she'd selected and entered them into the appropriate file on her tablet. "I'll take these bones upstairs to study further, and put the rest of them away…", she said to herself. Picking up the large box, she groaned as she climbed up on the step stool to return it to its slot, and after making sure it was pushed in completely, she applied more duct tape to keep it in place.

She put the skull and the rest of the bones she wished to study in a temporary container to take upstairs so they could be studied under magnification and tested for particulates. Satisfied that she'd prove that there was nothing supernatural to be discovered, she was nevertheless pleased as she reflected on the thought that another unknown soldier would soon be identified and returned to his family.

Propping the temporary container up on her hip, Brennan reached for the light switch to turn off the lights when she heard the unmistakeable sound of a plastic bin being moved from its shelf. Surprised, she turned to look up at the drawer, which appeared to be still in its slot.

 _"_ _I want my bones…"_ The man's voice was distinct, sounding as if it came from behind her. Looking into the hallway outside of the storeroom, she called out. "Booth? Is that you?" Waiting for a few seconds, and getting no response from her partner, she shrugged as she rolled her eyes. "Just my imagination…" Turning off the lights, she closed the doors behind her and walked upstairs, slightly annoyed that she'd allowed herself to be influenced by Booth's childish ghost stories.

In the loneliness of the bone storage room, the drawer moved away from its slot as a voice whispered in the darkness.

 _"_ _I want my bones…"_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: this chapter is much longer than the others, but there was no good place to split it. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it._

* * *

 _I want to run away from the horrible cold...away from the snow and ice….away from war and death. I want to run in the sun again...I want to run into the arms of my beautiful Linda…_

 _I want to go someplace where I'll never be cold again...somewhere warm and sunny…somewhere to spend forever with my Linda…_

 _I want my bones..._

oooooooooo

A week later, Booth followed Brennan into her office after lunch, laughing happily as he made himself comfortable on her sofa. "I don't think I've ever seen a guy change his tune so quickly. You were great in court today, Bones. Caroline says it's a slam dunk. That joker was squirming like crazy, in a panic to make a deal to plead guilty to manslaughter. Ray Haggerty is going away long time."

Brennan smiled at him as she sat down at her computer. "I really didn't do anything that was out of the ordinary, Booth. I merely presented the evidence we had amassed during our investigation. The FBI was the entity that connected the evidence to the crime, and thus, by extension, to the criminal, and then Caroline presented the case to the jury. When we scientists at the Jeffersonian are allowed to do our work at an appropriate pace, without being unduly rushed by anxious special agents, the results are normally worth the wait, because they usually become instrumental in obtaining in a conviction."

"Yeah, right. I get it. Okay, so no more pushing you to work faster, alright?" Booth rolled his eyes at his partner's smug expression. "Anyway, as soon as you began to explain how the marks on the victim's ribs exactly matched the nicks on the blade of Haggerty's personal filet knife...you know, the one with his name on the handle? That's when the guy knew his goose was cooked. Your explanation was really clear. Even an average cop like me could figure it out."

"You are far above average, Booth." Brennan grinned at her partner as he preened a little bit with her praise. "Your description of how you recovered the knife from the trash can behind Haggerty's house was quite concise as well."

Clearing her throat as she stood in the office doorway, Angela chuckled softly. "If you two are finished with your love fest here, I have some information for you, and I think you'll both find it very interesting."

Blushing slightly as she turned toward the door, Brennan gestured for her friend to enter. "What sort of information?"

Sauntering in, Angela held up a file folder. "I've been reviewing Department of Defense records from the Korean War era, and I think I've found some names that fit the scenario that Booth postulated when we were down in Limbo last week." She sat down next to Booth, and after opening the file, she read from a sheet of paper. "Here's the incident report. On November 20, 1950, a three man squad was sent out on patrol one evening, but they failed to return from their appointed rounds, so a search party was organized the next morning. Unfortunately, the bodies of two of the three were recovered later that day." Angela pulled out two service photographs and laid them on the table. "Private First Class Edward Ravenscroft and Corporal Francis Paliotta were both killed when one of the two men apparently stepped on a landmine. The third man in their squad…" She held up another picture. "...Private Jonathan Burkhart, was listed as missing and presumed dead. The terrible weather conditions and the rapid advance of the Chinese army toward the American position at the Yalu River prevented an extensive search for his remains."

Booth mumbled softly to himself as he looked at the pictures on the table. "Eddie and Frankie...like in my dream." He took the third picture from Angela and studied it carefully. "So you think this is the guy that Bones was looking at in Limbo?"

"Here's the facial reconstruction I did from Brennan's tissue markers for the skull. They look like the same person to me." Angela held up the two pictures so that Brennan could see them. "What do you think, Sweetie?"

Brennan nodded as she noted several similarities in the facial features shown in the pictures. "Yes, I'd say they were images of the same person. The microfractures on the skull and sternum as well as the particulate evidence Hodgins found on the bones from the upper body would seem to indicate that he was injured in an explosion of some sort, but he didn't receive the full force of the blast. I wonder how Private Burkhart's remains were preserved…"

"The DOD notes on the exchange of the soldiers' remains were vague. Even though it was over 30 years ago, that information is still classified...the topic is really sensitive." Angela turned to another page in her file. "It seems that no one really knows how he ended up buried in some farmer's field in North Korea. The remains were found when a contractor was excavating an area to begin construction on a new apartment building. I guess parts of the uniform were still intact on the remains, so the contractor notified the local law enforcement agency, who contacted someone else higher up in the government...you know how that goes, right, Booth?"

"Yeah, I know…", he said softly, seemingly preoccupied as he stared at the photograph of Jonathan Burkhart. Running his fingers gently across the picture, he exhaled slowly. "Jesus...he was just a kid, wasn't he?"

Angela nodded sadly. "Twenty. He'd just turned twenty the week before he died. It's so sad. He had his whole life ahead of him…"

"They all had their whole lives ahead of them. Every soldier who's killed in combat...they miss out on the rest of their lives…" Booth handed the photograph back to Angela. "So, the remains of Ravenscroft and Paliotta were returned to their families all those years ago. What about Burkhart? Does he have any family left?"

Biting her lip, Angela glanced at Brennan as she pulled out another page from the folder. "His wife's name was Linda...Linda Burkhart. There's a woman by that name currently living in Silver Springs, Maryland, and, according to the Department of Motor Vehicles, she'd be about the right age to be this man's widow." Closing the file, Angela smiled sadly at Booth. "You said the guy in your dream was thinking about a woman named Linda, right?"

"That's probably just a coincidence, Angela." Brennan shook her head at her friend's comment. "Linda is a very common name, and it was especially popular during that time period."

"So you're saying that Booth just dreamed up a random name, and it just happened to be the name of the dead guy's wife? C'mon, Sweetie…", Angela laughed. "You really can't see the connection?"

"I know what you want me to see, Angela, but I think the connection between those facts is tenuous at best. You're projecting your feelings and beliefs about ghosts and spirits onto this situation, when it's simply a case where the remains of an unknown soldier have been positively identified."

"Well, I know what I'm gonna do." Rising quickly from the sofa, Booth nodded resolutely as he picked up Jonathan's picture. "I'm gonna go see this Mrs. Burkhart for myself. If she was Jonathan's wife, she has a right to know what happened to her husband. You wanna come, Bones?"

"Alright, I'll come with you so I can prove that you're both making this into something more than it really is." Brennan stood up and grabbed her bag. "Let's go, Booth."

Oooooooooo

Standing on the porch of a small white house later that afternoon, Booth rang the doorbell, turning to Brennan as they waited for someone to answer. "You know, Bones, it's a good thing you do, identifying the unknowns in bone storage. I know their families appreciate it."

"They do. I've received several nice letters from people who've had family members returned..."

"Yes?" A young woman dressed in nurse's scrubs opened the door. "May I help you?"

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth…", he began, nodding to his partner as he flashed his badge, "...and this here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Museum. We're looking for Mrs. Linda Burkhart…"

"Who is it, Maggie?", a hoarse voice asked from inside the house. "Is it a salesman?"

"No, ma'am...it's some people from the FBI." Maggie glared at the visitors standing on the porch. "Should I tell them to go away?"

"No, of course not. You can't go turning away folks from the government. Ask them in."

Annoyed, Maggie opened the door wide enough for Booth and Brennan to enter and then led them into the small living room. "You two can't stay long. Miss Linda needs her rest."

Cackling softly, the frail woman sitting in a recliner shook her head at the nurse's instructions. "Why do I need to rest, Maggie? It's not like I'm going out dancing tonight. I'm too old for that foolishness." She gestured towards a dusty floral sofa. "Make yourselves comfortable. Maggie, please bring our guests some coffee."

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Burkhart." Booth smiled politely at the elderly lady and her nurse. "We only need a few minutes of your time. We don't want to disturb you if you're not feeling well."

"You're right, young man. I'm not feeling well, but I can still be polite to my company." Mrs. Burkhart waved her hand at the nurse in irritation as the young woman tried to cover her legs with a blanket. "Quit fussing over me, Maggie, and go get us some coffee." After Maggie left the living room in a huff, Mrs. Burkhart laughed softly. "She's my home health aide. She's a good girl, but she's not very realistic about things. I've got pancreatic cancer. My doctor says I've got a month left at the most...so, you see, I don't really have any reason to rest up. I want enjoy the time I have left."

"I'm sorry to hear about your diagnosis, Mrs. Burkhart." Brennan glanced at Booth and shook her head slightly. "It's unfortunate…". She paused as Maggie brought the tray of coffee into the living room.

"I've had a good life for the most part, with very few regrets." The woman tried to pull herself up in her chair without much success. "Dying is just a part of life, you know?"

"Yeah, well..." Clearing his throat, Booth shifted nervously on the sofa. "You may be wondering why we're here today, Mrs. Burkhart." He pulled a photograph from his jacket's interior pocket. "Dr. Brennan and I...we think we may have some news for you...about your husband."

"Jonathan? But that was so long ago…", Mrs. Burkhart whispered as she brushed away a sudden tear. "God, I've missed him so much over the years…but the Army said he was dead...even though they never could find him, they said they were sure he'd died. I've always wondered about what really happened to him..."

"I've identified his remains, Mrs. Burkhart. They were returned to the US government by the North Koreans several years ago..." Brennan exhaled slowly. "...but they were only recently rediscovered in bone storage."

Seeing the elderly woman's confusion, Booth explained. "Dr. Brennan is a forensic anthropologist. She works with the FBI in solving crimes, but she also works identifying people's remains when no one knows who they are. Your husband's remains have been in storage at the Jeffersonian, and Dr. Brennan finally figured out who he was."

"You found my Jonny? After all these years…" Mrs. Burkhart looked shocked as she choked back a sob. "I tried not to give up hope, but I guess I always knew he was really dead. I knew that if he could get home to me, he'd do it somehow. Will you hand me that picture?" She pointed to a framed photograph on a shelf, which Brennan handed to her. "This was our wedding picture. He was such a handsome boy, wasn't he?" A tall blonde man in an old fashioned suit stood smiling happily as he held the hand of a slender brunette, who was wearing a white satin dress. "We were sweethearts all through high school, and we got married as soon as we graduated, in 1948. We had a year together before he got called up…" She blinked back some tears. "He came home after Basic Training, and we had a wonderful time together for a couple of weeks before he was deployed overseas. I never saw him again…"

"I'm so sorry…", Brennan said quietly. She held out a folded paper to Mrs. Burkhart. "This report explains your husband's injuries. It appears he was injured in an explosion of some sort, but that's all we know for sure. It's possible the blast disoriented him enough that he wandered away from his squad and suffered from exposure to the elements. The weather conditions were quite extreme where he was stationed, but there was no real evidence to accurately ascertain cause of death." She handed the older woman a box of tissues. "I know this must be very hard for you..."

Crying quietly, Mrs. Burkhart shook her head slowly. "It's so much harder not knowing anything about what happened. All those years he was missing, and I just couldn't move on, even though in my heart I knew he was gone. I mean, what if I'd decided to get married again, and then Jonny showed up at my front door? I couldn't take that chance, so I've been alone all these years. We didn't have any children...I had nothing to remember him by. But now you've given him back to me." Sniffling as she wiped her eyes, Mrs. Burkhart reached over to pat Brennan's hand. "Thank you so much, my dear, for bringing my husband home to me. Now I can die in peace, knowing what happened to him."

After clearing his throat, Booth smiled tenderly at the frail woman. "I'm sure his last thoughts were of you, Mrs. Burkhart. He loved you very much." He pointedly ignored Brennan's questioning glance as he continued. "You made him very happy, and he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you." Swallowing hard, he continued softly. "I've been in many battles where men were mortally wounded, and their last thoughts always go back to their loved ones. I know you were on Jonathan's mind right up until the end."

"Thank you, Agent Booth." Mrs. Burkhart smiled at him through her tears. "Jonny has been on my mind for years, and he will be until the day I die." Shuddering a sigh, she turned to Brennan. "When can I bring my Jonny home?"

Brennan shrugged slightly. "I can have the remains released as soon as you'd like. Where would you like to have them sent?"

"Miller's Funeral Home over on Grant Avenue. They'll be taking care of my arrangements as well. Thank you so much, both of you...you have no idea how much this means to me." Mrs. Burkhart smiled sweetly, shaking hands with Booth and Brennan as they stood to leave. "I appreciate you both taking time out of your busy day to bring me this news."

"It was our pleasure, Mrs. Burkhart. I'm just sorry we didn't have something more pleasant to tell you. Take care." Booth put his hand on Brennan's back to guide her out of the room and down the porch steps to the parked SUV.

"Thanks for coming with me, Bones." He gripped the steering wheel as he stared out the front window of the SUV. "It never gets easier...informing someone that their loved one has died. Even after all these years, it never gets easier."

"That's because you're a good man, Booth, and you care deeply for other people." Brennan smiled as she patted his shoulder. "Come on...let's go to the diner. I'll buy you a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee."

Oooooooooo

Two weeks later, Brennan took Booth's arm as they walked through the pleasant gardens of St. Alban's Church, where the large urn containing the ashes of both Jonathan and Linda Burkhart had been interred in the church's columbarium.

"It was a moving service, wasn't it, Booth?" Brennan spoke quietly as they sat on a bench on the garden's perimeter. "I especially liked the music. I'm glad they found someone to play _Taps_ for Jonathan."

"Yeah, that was good. I'm glad we came." He grinned slyly as he leaned toward his partner. "So do you still think this was all a huge set of coincidences? That I just happened to dream twice about someone from the Korean Conflict who died as an unknown, and the guy just happened to have a wife named Linda? And his remains just happened to be in the Jeffersonian's bone storage in a drawer for thirty years, and then for some reason, all of the sudden that drawer wouldn't stay closed no matter what you did to it? And then the dream just happened to be true? And we just happened to find his wife to give her the news right before she died?"

"Of course, it was coincidental...all of it." Seeing his goofy grin, Brennan rolled her eyes at her silly partner. "Let me guess...you believe it was all part of some supernatural plan, and we were all pawns in some spirit's game."

"I know you don't believe that, and I get it...I really do. I mean, it's not scientific at all, and we can't measure anything to prove it happened that way. But here's what I think. I think Jonathan wanted Linda to know what had happened to him before she died, so she'd be at peace when she passed...and I think he wanted to make sure they'd be together after she died."

"So you think that his 'spirit' made sure we would find his remains in bone storage just in time so he could be buried with his wife?", Brennan laughed.  
"Booth...seriously?"

"Well, that's what I think happened. I think that's why he was in a hurry, because he knew she didn't have much time left. He wanted to us to find him..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth. People can't come back from the dead..."

"No, Bones...that's not ridiculous. That's love. Remember? Mrs. Burkhart said she knew her Jonny would come back to her if he could, and I think he did just that. His love for her overcame death, so that they could be together forever when she finally passed. When a man loves a woman like that, he'll do anything he can to make her happy. Jonathan did whatever he had to do to be with his wife...even if it meant coming back from the grave." He chuckled at his partner's exasperation. "I know. I can't explain how all those things could happen and I can't prove it did happen. It's just a feeling, you know? Like maybe the Lord gave Jonathan a pass to come back for his wife. I know it sounds weird, having a feeling like that, but I'll tell you this...that feeling makes me so happy...to know that their love transcended death and time...it's great…a great story." He felt his ears grow red as Brennan studied him intently. "Pretty stupid, I guess…to believe a crazy ghost story like that...but I think it's nice to think about it. Remember? In his homily, the priest said Mrs. Burkhart was so happy to be going home to her Jonny. I think she was relieved, and I'm glad we were able to do that for her."

"Perhaps it is just a ghost story, but it's still a lovely story, isn't it? I never realized that a tough FBI agent like you could be such a romantic." She giggled at his blush. "I'd like to think that sort of story is really true…that love really conquers all...even death."

"Yeah...me, too. It'd be nice to know that a love like that could last forever, wouldn't it?" Booth shrugged as she smiled at him. "If a guy has the right woman, that story's gonna be true…you just have to find that someone." He patted Brennan's hand as he smiled. "...And then you two can always be together, you know? You can have a love that lasts a lifetime...maybe more...or at least for thirty or forty or fifty years…"

Brennan sighed as she put her head on Booth's shoulder. "Do you think I'll ever find that person? The one I can love like that?"

"Yeah, of course you will...just like I will." He grinned as he put his arm around her. "Who knows? Maybe we've already met those people…and they're just waiting for us to figure it out."

"Don't you think we'd know who it is by now?" Brennan was incredulous as she looked into his warm brown eyes. "How could we miss something like that?"

Booth smiled as he looked out over the gardens. "I don't think we'll miss it. I think we'll figure it out...when the time is right..."

oooooooooo

After arranging a memorial wreath on the Burkharts' niche, Angela smiled wistfully as she watched Booth and Brennan talking together on the garden bench. Turning to Avalon, she sighed in exasperation. "Are those two ever going to figure out that they're meant for each other?"

As Avalon watched Booth's bright pink aura swirl and dance when it combined with Brennan's pale yellow glow, she nodded. "Yes, eventually things will all work out between the two of them, but they'll have many struggles first...both separately and together. However, those struggles will finally bring them closer and make them stronger as a couple."

The psychic brushed away a bittersweet tear as she noticed the almost transparent figures of a tall blond man in an old fashioned suit and a slender brunette woman in a white satin dress walk hand in hand through the garden and into the shimmering summer heat before fading slowly away. "In the end, Seeley and Temperance will have a love story to rival that of Jonathan and Linda. It'll take a while, but they'll have a love that lasts forever...even after they leave this plane of existence, no matter what Temperance believes. Once their lives are joined together, they'll never be apart again."

"Really?", Angela asked, breathless with excitement. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure!" Avalon laughed happily as she walked away from the church with Angela. "After all, it's in the cards..."

"Now all we have to do is convince them." Angela rolled her eyes at the enormity of that task. "I'm not sure how that's gonna happen..."

"Trust me, Angela." Avalon smiled as she watched Booth and Brennan strolling toward the church's parking lot. "I'm gonna sing at their wedding. The cards are always right."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Laura_


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